


spread yourself across my lips

by malikjaureguis



Category: Faking It (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Unrequited, tags are hard just read it por favor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 08:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1544474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malikjaureguis/pseuds/malikjaureguis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the first time she’s ever kissed someone. — amy/karma</p>
            </blockquote>





	spread yourself across my lips

**Author's Note:**

> ehhhhhh.  
> also, i haven't seen the second episode as of posting this, so forgive me if there are errors throughout.

spread yourself across my lips

_spread yourself across my lips_   
_and i spoon you in._   
_the sweetest thing in all the world;_   
_oh, i want more._   
_there is no place i'd rather be than here with you._

— belly full, dave matthews band

It’s the first time she’s ever kissed someone.

She kisses Karma and it feels like a dream, because Amy is about certain none of this is real.  She can feel her pulse in the back of her head and the front of her palms as they grasp Karma’s hips, and the static of the crowd’s cheers feels so far away and still too close.  Something inside of her is crackling, popping, clicking, something deep in the pit of her chest.  More than ever before, in her short, short life, Amy feels an inhuman exhilaration thrumming through her body - no, through _their_ bodies, Karma’s and hers.  The two of them feel like one big heartbeat, as their chests pump harshly against each other.

They pull off one another with what Amy is certain is a grotesque, slick _pop_ (if her eardrums were working properly amidst these feral screams), and for the briefest of moments Amy feels the gravity of Karma’s lips pulling her back.  In the instance she catches Karma’s eyes she’s filled with the overwhelming desire to bring her back into her, like really gay puzzle pieces, but in the next instance realizes, oh, shit, _that’s bad_.

Karma doesn’t pull her back though; her eyes just brighten with joy at Amy’s cooperation, and splits from her almost as quickly as they melted together.  She runs to the mic and begins making a speech that Amy can’t hear because there’s too much ringing in her ears.  Her lips are tingling, and they feel like they’re swelling up and up.  Her mouth hangs slack, as through her mind runs the same message: _oh, shit_.

Karma’s fingers run loosely over Amy’s knuckles, and Amy tries to quell the burning sensation they leave.  Karma loops her fingers through Amy’s and knocks their shoulders together, smiling all the way at the attention the PDA encourages.  Amy’s mouth wobbles, unsure if it should smile or frown because Amy isn’t sure how she feels about this display.

The feeling of their hands laced together isn’t completely new - they’ve held hands lots of times, as friends often do.  But now, knowing it’s for people and not just because that’s the way their hands gravitate, it feels alien and Amy’s palms start to become slick with sweat, something Karma teases her about when it’s just the two of them.

“C’mon, silly, what’re you so nervous about?” Karma asks her offhandedly, in a way that shows concern but doesn’t really want an answer.  So Amy shrugs instead of answers, swallows the heartbeat that’s pumping in her tongue, and shoves her now-free hands deep into her hoodie pockets.  A smile forces itself onto her lips, but on the inside nothing is smiling.

It’s Karma who suggests they practice kissing, but Amy is not about to argue against it.  It’s at Karma’s house and they’re home alone except for Karma’s mom (who is cooped up in her meditation room in the basement, so Amy thinks/hopes they’re pretty safe).  Amy’s body starts thrumming in anticipation when Karma gently guides her to lay on the bed - then Amy’s head knocks against the headboard as her vision swirls, and there’s an audible crack followed by a sucking in of her teeth to mask the pain.

“Oh my god I am so sorry are you okay?” Karma frantically asks all in one breath, and Amy nervously giggles as she rubs the slight knot in the back of her head.  It’s the shock that hurts more than anything, and Amy’s thankful for the comic relief of her clumsiness that melts the tension a little.

“Yeah, no, it’s my bad.” Amy says, squinting up at Karma who hovers over her, auburn hair falling around Amy’s face like a curtain so all she sees is that face.  “One of these days I’m going to get myself killed, and then you’re gonna have to find yourself a new girlfriend.”  There’s a ripple of half-uncomfortable laughter between the two of them before Karma’s eyes flicker to Amy’s lips.

“Well, for now, I’m stuck with you, so best make the most of it.” Karma says, Amy rolls her eyes for a brief moment before Karma straddles her.  Her breath catches in the back of her throat, and she feigns nonchalance.

It’s not as smooth as the kiss at the Homecoming rally; in fact, it’s bumpy and Amy’s mouth is too closed while Karma’s is too open, and it just ends up being a rather slobbery, red-faced mess.

“Okay, wow, that’s disgusting.” Amy says, softly, as if her body is trying to conserve oxygen because god knows she’s having trouble inhaling.  Karma acts mock-offended, rolling her eyes and wiping their mingled spit gracelessly from her mouth with her sweater sleeve, before leaning slowly down.

“Hold on” is what she whispers against Amy’s lips before dipping down to catch them on her own.  This time the kiss is tender and smooth; Karma works her mouth against Amy’s methodically, and Amy readily responds.  She pushes her tongue lightly against her lips, testing the waters.  Karma lets her, and so she allows herself to push harder against the kiss.  Instinctively her hand reaches up to tangle in Karma’s hair, and Karma’s body shifts so her knee falls into the curl of Amy’s crotch.  She rocks against her then, and everything begins to sink into everything else: Amy’s body into the mattress, Karma’s body into Amy.  Static crackles in Amy’s ears as she fists a chunk of Karma’s hair between her fingers, and it only stops when she cannot control the tiny but audible moan that grumbles in the back of her throat.

That’s when Karma stops - pulls off of her so fast the weight of her on Amy’s stomach lingers when she’s not there.

“Whoa, that was…” Karma is at a loss for words.  She scratches the inside of her ear absently, putting way too much focus on it and not on Amy, who’s still laying down, face pink enough to match her bedspread.  “Really...good.  Really good.  Very convincing.”  The two of them cough awkwardly in unison, before Karma forces a smile and a giggle.

“Now we just need to bring that A game to show and tell, on Monday.” Karma exclaims, grinning despite the churning in her stomach - and Amy can tell her stomach is churning, because whenever one of the two of them is on the edge, the other always knows.  Or at least, Amy always knows when it comes to Karma.  Karma can be quite oblivious.

“Yeah,” Amy breathlessly says, as Karma brushes out the tangles Amy left in her hair and reaches for the TV remote, “sure can do.”

Amy wakes with a start one night, face coated in a thin layer of sweat and her breathing harsh.

She’s never had a dream like that before.

And certainly not one that included Karma.

She shifts her legs into herself in a desperate effort to quell the throbbing in her crotch.  The imagery of her dream runs circles in her brain, and try as she might, the image of Karma thriving beneath her is burned into the back of her eyelids.  Amy falls down back onto her back, eyes wide open and fixated on the cracks in her ceiling.  They crawl out into the wall like black veins; Amy’s blood feels thick in her own.

She stays like that, still except for the fluttering of her eyelashes, for awhile.  Then, with a shot of shame, she moves her arms under her shirt and moves them methodically along her skin.  She closes her eyes and pictures how Karma’s arms had done the same to her in her imagination, run their nails carefully over Amy’s belly and chest and breasts.  Amy’s breathing becomes shallow when she dips one hand beneath the waistband of her pants.  She squeezes her eyes as she puts the dream on replay for the backs of her eyelids and rhythmically pumps her fingers.  Karma infests her mind in these dark moments in her bedroom, where the only noise is the scraping of her knuckles against the fabric of her shorts.  She thinks of taking Karma’s bottom lip in her teeth, of running her stubby fingernails over Karma’s curves, of taking Karma by the hips and laying heated kisses along Karma’s neck.  Karma.  She thinks of Karma, in positions she shouldn’t ever want to see Karma in, saying things she shouldn’t ever want to hear Karma say.  She swears she tastes rust on her bottom lip when suddenly she bites down harshly, her whole body quivering as she involuntarily thrusts into her hand.  Eyes snapping open as quickly as they had before, Amy’s vision swims black, peppered with little dots of color every time she blinks.

Her guilt grows thick in her throat as she withdraws her hand and turns over in her bed, shoving her now hot face deep into the scratchy pillowcase.

They go to these parties a lot nowadays.  The kind of parties where everything is too: too hot, too crowded, too loud, too drunk.  Not surprisingly, it’s at Liam’s house, and even more not surprisingly, Karma is all over him.  She stays close enough to Amy that there isn’t as much suspicion about all her attention being on him, but all it does is make Amy increasingly uncomfortable.

The shrill fake laughter Liam rips out of Karma’s mouth is all too familiar to Amy, and she rolls her eyes in such an obvious way as she nurses the beer can she’s got gripped tight in her hand.  Shane observes her from a respectful distance, eyebrow quirked in a knowing way.  She averts his gaze best she can, trying not to look suspicious as Karma fully ignores her for Liam’s affections.

She’s about to tell Karma it’s time to go when she feels a hand curl around her upper arm and drag her off.  She sees it’s Shane, and so resists the instinctive urge to rip herself from him and reach into her purse for mace (a lesson ingrained in her by her worrywart mother).

“What do you want?” she spits at him, as she leads her discreetly up the steps.  She looks over to see if Karma is following; the other girl hasn’t even flinched at Amy’s disappearance.

“I have oodles of questions,” Shane says with a lilt to his voice, like any other gossip hound that’s tried effortlessly to invade Amy or Karma’s privacy for lecherous questions, “and you’re just the lesbian to answer them.”

The word leaves a sour taste in Amy’s mouth as Shane leads the two of them into Liam’s bedroom, which reeks of Axe and sweat and is adorned with posters of women in compromising positions and a Playboy calendar that is truly appalling.  Shane seats her on the bed before crossing his arms, hip cocked and a wry smile overtaking his face.  His eyes beam bright.

“Now then.” he starts, “ _What_ ” - dramatic pause - “is up?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.” Amy says.  She does.

Shane sighs with acute theatricality, flopping down beside her and crossing his legs.  “You and your ladylove.  There seems to be a bit of distance, and also the proximity of her and Liam is liable to result in teen pregnancy.  And _that_...is fishy.”

Amy racks her brain for something that would make reason, but ultimately comes up empty - and then she realizes, she doesn’t give a shit anymore.  She wants this charade to stop, but the tugging in her belly keeps her from doing it because...well, because it makes Karma so fucking happy.  And Amy is whipped as fuck.

But there’s no way to lie to Shane, especially not now when he’s got her cornered like a wounded animal.

So she comes clean.  She tells him all of it, in a hushed whisper just in case, and he laps it all up like a thirsty dog.  Amy swears she sees a little drool escape his mouth as his eyes widen with desire.  But what really gets him:

“Karma and I are pretending to be lesbians.  Well, Karma is.  I’m not so sure.”  That’s what makes him look like he’s about to explode from the sheer glee his brain is experiencing.

“You have my attention.”  He says this slow, but Amy can practically feel his body vibrating with curiosity.

And so Amy comes clean about that too.

“Well,” is what he says, with a deep breath after Amy is done, “I have heard gay panic stories a-plenty, but yours is in a category quite all its own.”

“Yeah, I get the irony, Elton John.” Amy spits with fire.  She expects Shane to look insulted at such a slur, but instead his smile is quirked at one corner of his mouth.  “I just...I don’t know what to do.”

“Hmm.” Shane says, and Amy thinks she hears something akin to genuine empathy in his voice.  His hand splays gently against her back, pushing her to stand up as he does.  “Getting a li’l drunk is a good first step.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Amy replies.  “Besides, I’m the designated driver.  Which is why I’ve had only one beer - because I’m _responsible_.”  She says the last three words with a squint of her eyes and a deepening of her voice that causes Shane to laugh.  Amy thinks it’s a pity laugh but she can’t really tell.

“Hey, it helps me.” he says, and then looks like he’s revealed too much.  He mutters an “um, what I mean is” before Amy holds up a hand and closes her eyes knowingly.

“Say no more.” she says, and then dips into his shoulder in the comforting way she’s done with Karma for so many years.  “I think I can gather who you’re talking about.”

The two of them meet Karma and Liam on the stairs, as Liam is tugging Karma’s wrist insistently up.  She meets eyes with Amy eagerly, stealing a kiss to make her about-to-be escapade with Liam look platonic for the rest of the guests.  Only this time Amy doesn’t melt into it, and when Karma pulls away she bites her lip and wiggles her eyebrows.  Any other time and Amy might’ve replied with a wiggle of her own brow, maybe even a thumbs up, but this time she doesn’t reply with anything - not that Karma notices.

Amy and Shane reach the bottom of the stairs, each glancing at the top of the stairs and each pretending like they didn’t.  Shane wraps an arm round Amy’s shoulders as she crosses her arms, and sinks into him.

“So tell me, our friendly neighborhood lesbian,” Shane says with a sad lilt to his voice, “what’re you gonna do?”

Amy closes her eyes, tasting the residue of beer against the back of her molars.  “I’ll let you know when I do.”

There’s a hole in her chest after Karma tells her the details.  She supposes she’s supposed to be happy - this is one of those moments they talked about talking about with each other before they happened.  Karma comes to Amy with the same enthusiasm as when she had her first kiss, cheeks flushed and gaze turnt up toward the sky like she’s thanking the angels for such an experience.

She tells Amy every detail, romanticizing even the most unappealing parts, and the lilt in her voice is saturated with lust and puppy love.  Amy’s stomach tightens when Karma hits on certain parts, like how Liam only kissed her neck and not her lips, and how it “kind of hurt but in a good way.”  Karma’s hand is splayed across Amy’s comforter, and she itches to grab it.  She’s not sure if it’s instinct or desire that fuels the itch.

Amy resists the urge to clench her fingers into fists when Karma remarks offhandedly how he’d called her “pretty good” and noted that “lesbos give the best fucks”  before buckling his pants, not even concerning himself with eye contact.  Karma seems to think it’s romantic, somehow, but the only thing in Amy’s mind is a slideshow of all the ways she wants to kill Liam now.

“What’s wrong?” Karma says at one point, scrunching her brow when she notices Amy’s unenthusiasm.  Amy contemplates saying “nothing,” but instead, she has a case of word vomit.

“What do you see in him?”  The question comes with more fire than she intended.  Karma seems startled, but stands her ground.

“What do you mean?” she asks, but doesn’t give time for an answer.  “He’s so sweet, and artistic, sensitive, extremely tolerant - ”

“ _Bullshit._ ”  The word cuts through Karma’s, and the silence that falls is loud.

“Excuse - ”

“I said, _bullshit_ , Karma.”  Amy’s boiling.  “He’s sleazy and gross.  He slept with you when he thought you were not just gay, but in a relationship!”

“What are you so upset about?  It’s not like we’re actually dating.”  Amy sucks her teeth in.

“That’s not the point.  He thinks we are, and he still went after you.  What kind of absolute sleazeball does that?”  Karma looks about ready to leave when Amy continues.  “I love you, K, the last thing I want is some douche taking advantage of you.”  The features of Karma’s face soften.  She takes Amy’s hands in hers, curls her fingers around Amy’s knuckles.

“I love you, too.” she quietly admits.  “And I’m so lucky to have a friend like you looking out for me.  But I know what I’m doing.  You have to trust that I can take care of myself.  I’m a big girl.”  She sticks her bottom lip out in a pout-like expression, but then her laughter messes that up for her.  Amy doesn’t laugh, just forces an expression that seems like happiness.  Because Karma is really fucking stupid, and Amy is really fucking in love with her.

Amy almost tells Karma the truth.  Three times, exactly, she almost tells her.

Once, they’re sharing a thing of fries in the school cafeteria, and Karma’s got a little blob of ketchup at the corner of her mouth.  Instead of just telling her so she could lick it off herself - because she knows Karma would get upset at a lost opportunity for unnecessary PDA - Amy gives her a warning and swipes her thumb across Karma’s lips.  She then pops her thumb in her own mouth, suckling the red paste off.

“I’m a big girl, mom,” Karma teases, “I can clean myself up just fine.”

Amy almost tells her then.  Smirks and scrunches a fry against leftover salt instead.

Another time, they’re sitting far too close, fingers interlocked, as they do homework in the library during study hall.  They’re sharing earphones because Karma left hers in her car, and soft music of the Shins floats through (if they’re using Amy’s earphones, they’re listening to Amy’s music - that is the rule).  Karma’s breath is practically on her skin as they flip through pages of their individual textbooks.  The song switches from one of the Shins’ to the only Grouplove song Karma actually knows.

“I _love_ this song,” she mouths to Amy after tapping her on the shoulder to get her attention.

Amy almost tells her then, too.  Smiles, and mouths back “me too” instead.

A third time, Amy is dropping Karma off at fourth period (the one class they don’t actually have together), and impulsively places her hands on Karma’s cheeks and plants one right on her.

It’s not a peck, it’s a deep kiss that gathers a couple wolf whistles and a lot of aww’s.  Amy shifts her tongue into Karma’s mouth, who readily accepts, and it’s all Amy can do not to moan Karma’s fucking name.

They pull apart.  Amy almost tells her.

Karma’s got a huge Spanish test this period, though.  Best not to distract her.

Amy and Shane take to eating lunch together when Liam and Karma coincidentally decide to go to the bathroom at the same time.  Amy chews on her fries with a depressing gloom while Shane sips his mineral water in tiny, sad sips.  Stuff like this tends to happen a lot nowadays, Karma preferring Liam’s company to Amy’s.  Amy starts to wonder if it weren’t for the silly fake relationship, would Karma talk to her at all?

Once Karma comes back ruffled, but Liam does not.  She says he had to go do some studying, and something akin to rage burns low in Amy’s belly, because Karma’s glowing but her eyes are dull.

She mumbles an excuse offhandedly before standing and stomping off.  Liam is of course not studying when she finds him, draped over another girl in front of his locker.  He catches Amy coming his way and gestures for the girl to leave, but not without a wink that implies they will continue this later.  The rage burns harsher.

“Hey, sweet stuff - ” is all she allows Liam to get out of his mouth, because then she’s got him smashed against the lockers, a fist in his collar and his eyes like a deer in headlights.

“Don’t fuck with Karma.” she hisses, “She’s special, okay, and I don’t know you very well, but I know your game.  If you hurt her, I’m literally going to kill you with my bare fists.   _Don’t.  Fuck.  With.  Karma._ ”  She punctuates the last words with finality, gripping Liam’s shirt so tight her bones look about ready to pop out of her skin.

“Chill!” he exclaims, holding his arms up in mock surrender.  Amy releases him in disgust.  “Damn.  Never took you for the jealous type, Raudenfeld.”

“ _Piss off._ ”  She says, about to turn around, then decides to look him dead in the eye, heart swelling her throat.  “I love her, and if you hurt her, there’ll be hell to pay.”

Then she turns around and stomps off, her heart about to pop in her chest.

The crown feels heavy atop Amy’s head, but Karma looks lighter than air in her kitschy, glittery 50 cent tiara.  Her dress is bright green, a color she’d insisted on because it would help bring out Amy’s eyes.  She looks really beautiful.

It’s no surprise when their names are read from the slip of paper in the principal’s hand, when they’re named Homecoming Queen and Other Queen.  Hoots and hollers from their peers make the gym vibrate, and Shane is jumping and down, screeching “Them’s my girls!”  Lauren’s own screech penetrates the celebration, as she stomps off the stage with her trusty meathead in tow.  Amy snakes her arm around Karma for show, and Karma reaches an arm around Amy’s neck to draw her in for a kiss, for show.  It sends ripples through Amy’s belly.

The principal gives her congratulations via microphone, and then announces the long-awaited first dance.  The crowd of teenagers parts like the Red Sea as their Queens make their way to the floor, sticky with sweat and spilled punch.  They face each other, putting their arms in place like they’ve practiced before, breasts pressed against each other so intimately Amy forgets they’re being watched.

“Take My Breath Away” begins to play over the speakers, scratchy because someone kicked the box earlier.  The two of them sway in turn to the music, acutely aware of the stares that scrape their conjoined figures.  Liam is licking his lips as he stares at Karma’s backside, and Amy resists the urge to make eye contact with him and flip him the bird.  She squeezes Karma close against her, as if to say mine without verbalizing it, and the smaller girl echoes a playful “you’re crushing me” to encourage Amy to loosen her hold.

“Sorry, babe.” Amy playfully responds, watching Karma poke the corner of her mouth with her tongue and roll her eyes in such a theatrical manner.

They sway to the melodies, and Amy’s never felt safer than with Karma draped over her.  The makeshift jewels in their Dollar Store crowns glitter in the low lighting of the gym; Amy’s crown is missing one, or several.  Karma’s is fine.

“This night,” Karma whispers, “is so freaking amazing.”  Amy nods silently.

“Karma?” she says, with her heart lodged in her esophagus.  Karma makes eye contact, expectant.

“I love you.”  The words come fast, and the silence after seems slow.  She’s said these words too many times to count, but tonight they make her palms sweaty and her face flushed.  Karma’s mouth tilts up.

“I love you too, dummy.” Karma responds, tightening her grip on Amy’s shoulder.  Amy crumbles involuntarily.

“Yeah,” she whispers, eyes dropping to the slick linoleum of the gym floor.  The lights are suddenly too bright.  “Yeah.”


End file.
